biscuits

I was once friends with a man who was 100 years old. We had a bit of an unlikely friendship, since he had reached retirement age long before I was even born. He was smart, funny, and seems to have no concept of the age gap.

Life was a constant opportunity to make people laugh, and he took full advantage of it.

When he moved to Los Angeles in the 1940’s to get his pneumonia stricken daughters out of the frigid East Coast winters, he was without money, without a job, and without an education. He walked in to a Taxi company headquarters and asked for a job. He had a fantastic driving record and a winning smile, in his book, that’s the only resume he needed. As soon as the hiring manager found out that he had only lived on the West Coast of a week, knew nothing about Los Angeles freeways, and had never driven a cab, he shut down the interview.

“If you don’t know how to get from LAX to the Roosevelt Hotel, how are you going to get the client there??”

Jack responded with this famous smile, “Well if you don’t give me the cab, it’s gonna take a whole lot longer!”

He got the job.

Jack worked as a cab driver, running tourist from the Airport to Hollywood for over 30 years. He was also the very first Employee of the Month for the cab company, and to date, the recipient of the most complimentary letters ever sent to the cab company about any one of their employees.

As I sat with him only a few months before his 101’s birthday, eating biscuits that his nurse had made us, I asked him if he had any regrets.

“Not really. The secret to living 100 years old and not regretting anything is this: Do your best. Don’t hurt anyone. Make friends with anyone who will let you.”

When my job moved me farther from his apartment in the valley, I wasn’t able to visit as often as I used to so I wrote letters, postmarked from my Santa Monica office. One day I got a return letter, addressed to me with flowery handwriting. It was from his 76 year old daughter:

“Jackie,

I’m not sure what it was that formed a friendship between you and my Dad, but I wanted you to know how much he valued you. Your visits brightened his day, even his week. If there was a highlight from his last decade of life, it was the time he spent with you. He spoke of you often, and although my sister and I were at first skeptical of a friendship between him and a girl in her 20’s, it quickly became clear that there was a special bond between you two. I’m so sorry to tell you that he passed away, just a week shy of his 101’s birthday. I do want you to know that we appreciate the time you spent with him in his last year. Thank you.”

I cried. And ate biscuits in his honor, his favorite breakfast. To this day, “Do your best. Don’t hurt anyone. Make friends with anyone who will let you” is some of best advice I’ve gotten.

Pulse to combine. Add the cold butter, process until well combined. Add to a large bowl.

Add the buttermilk and beer. Mix with a fork until just combined.

Add to a well-floured flat surface, pat into a rectangle. Using a cold rolling pin (preferably marble) gently roll into a large rectangle, about 1 inch in thickness, using as few strokes as possible.

Fold the dough into thirds as you would a letter about to go into an envelope. Roll lightly, once in each direction to about 1 inch thickness, fold in thirds again. Gently roll into about 1 1/2 inch thickness (this will give you the flakey layers).

Using a biscuit cutter cut out 6 to 8 biscuits. Place in a baking pan that has been sprayed with cooking spray.

Brush biscuits with melted butter, sprinkle salt.

Bake at 425 for 10 to 12 minutes or until the tops are golden brown.

While the biscuits bake, make the gravy.

Melt the butter in a sauce pan over medium high heat.

Sprinkle the chicken thighs with salt and pepper. Sear on each side until golden brown, remove from the pan, chop (they do not need to be cooked through).

Add the onions, cook until softened, about five minutes. Add the mushrooms, cook until mushrooms are dark brown and soft.

Sprinkle with flour, cook until the flour has turned brown, about 2 minutes.

Add the beef stock and stout. Simmer until thickened. Add the chicken cubes back into the pan, simmer until cooked through.

Like you’ve never sat in good company at a crappy diner in a small town eating sub par biscuits and gravy washing it down with shitty coffee like it’s the best breakfast you’ve ever had. Like you’ve never had someones grandma make them for you so early in the morning you could hardly keep your eyes open. Like you’ve never delayed the start of day two of a road trip just so that you could have a plate of southern comfort food from that place your friend once told you about.

But we can’t do that. Because there is something about that combination of simple ingredients, done just right, that stays with us forever. The way the perfect song pouring out your car windows as you drive down a softly worn country road on a summer afternoon makes you feel like everything’s right in the world.

The food that stays with us, that comforts us, reminds us of home, is almost always simple food. It’s these dishes that are worth making, and remaking, over and over, making small adjustments that no one but us really notices, because dishes like this stay with us.

Pulse to combine. Add the cold butter, process until well combined. Add to a large bowl.

Add the buttermilk and beer. Mix with a fork until just combined.

Add to a well-floured flat surface, pat into a rectangle. Using a cold rolling pin (preferably marble) gently roll into a large rectangle, about 1 inch in thickness, using as few strokes as possible.

Fold the dough into thirds as you would a letter about to go into an envelope. Roll lightly, once in each direction to about 1 inch thickness, fold in thirds again. Gently roll into about 1 1/2 inch thickness (this will give you the flakey layers).

Using a biscuit cutter cut out 6 to 8 biscuits. Place in a baking pan that has been sprayed with cooking spray.

Brush biscuits with melted butter, sprinkle salt.

Bake at 400 for 12 to 15 minutes or until the tops are golden brown.

To make the gravy add the sausage to a pan over medium high heat. Cook, breaking up with a wooden spoon, until browned. Add the onions and butter, stirring and cooking until onions are browned, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle with flour. Whisk until flour is well combined. Cook until flour has browned. Add the milk, stout, Worcestershire, salt, pepper and cayenne pepper. Cook until thickened, about 8 minutes.

I never saw them on my Thanksgiving table or at Sunday dinner. They just didn’t exist in my world. Until one chilly afternoon in College when I stopped by the dorm room of a Souther friend of mine who had just pulled a Sweet potato, covered in butter and brown sugar out of the microwave. She was nuts. A Vegetable with sugar on it? I couldn’t get over how strange it was to enjoy a vegetable as if it was some kind of dessert. She offered me a bite, and my instinct to recoil was overtaken by my overwhelming curiosity. I was hooked.

I shocked at how much I love it. It was a comfort food, and it was a vegetable. Biscuits, made from scratch, are a bit the same. Although I didn’t grow up with anything other than a biscuit from a tube with a fear inducing opening method, those always seemed amazing to me. Another incredible comfort food.

And the beer isn’t just here for the novelty of it. Beer is a mild leavening agent, giving this biscuits a lighter, more tender texture. For this recipe, I like a Hefeweizen or a Pumpkin Ale.

Pierce the sweet potato all over. Microwave on high until soft, about 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool enough to work with. Remove and discard skin, add sweet potato to a bowl (should be about 3/4 cup of sweet potato mash).

Add the beer to the sweet potatoes and using a potato masher, stir and mash until completely combined.

In a bowl, add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar. Mix to combine.

Add the butter cubes and using your fingers or a pastry blender, rub the butter into the flour until completely combined.

Add the sweet potato beer mixture and mix until just combined.

Form dough into a ball and place on a lightly floured surface. Form into a square, about 1 1/2 inches high, and about 1 foot long. Cut into square biscuits. Place on a baking sheet covered with a Silpat or parchment paper. Brush with melted butter.

Bake at 425 for 15-18 minutes.

In a small bowl, add the maple syrup ingredients and stir until combined.

When you go about baking biscuits, beer is a great addition. Not only because beer is fantastic will every possible edible substance, but because the the carbonation is an amazing leavening agent that lends itself well to culinary beer usage.

For this recipe I used a Orange Wheat beer from Hangar 24, a Southern California based brewery. The beer was beautiful and the flavors where perfect for these biscuits. When I pick up a beer with fruit on the label, I am initially a touch apprehensive. I wait for the possibility of a Hard Cider like taste with the hesitation of a contused prostitute, before taking a sip. I am HAPPY to report that the natural orange was perfectly subtle and a well balanced citrus flavors, with a clean, crisp finish.

Even after cooking, the flavors stayed intact and complimented the white cheddar beautifully.

I also used Kerrygold cheese, although this has nothing to do with Oktoberfest, it’s just really great cheddar. The flavors are perfect for this recipe.

Dump the dough onto a floured surface. Squish together with your hands to form a ball and then flatten into a rectangle about 6 inches wide and 10 inches long and 2 inches high. Use a sharp knife to cut the biscuits into squares.

You can make them as big or small as you want, but this recipe will make 6-8 average sized biscuits.

Place the biscuits on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper. Sprinkle the top with a bit of sea salt and pepper.

Bake for 12-14 minutes or until light golden brown.

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ABOUT JACKIE

I started TheBeeroness.com as a way to marry my love of food and good craft beer. It was my offering, in a way, to the craft beer scene.

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Do not serve alcohol to minors.